


Running

by mitsukai613



Category: 3:10 to Yuma (2007)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:13:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28277430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitsukai613/pseuds/mitsukai613
Summary: Dan Evans was a mystery. Too scared to be a coward, too proud to give in, too desperate for affection from his wife, his son, anyone in the world, to run. A man ground down by life but there was a spark in those hazel green eyes that Ben Wade wanted to watch blaze into fire again. It's dangerous to catch the interest of a man like Ben Wade, but not only in the way Dan might've thought.
Relationships: Dan Evans/Ben Wade
Kudos: 7





	Running

On the rooftops of Contention, gunshots ringing in my ears, arm bleeding, mind racing, I realized that in all my days running from trouble like this, I'd never once run with a man I would consider a friend. Not even Charlie Prince, whatever the man himself would've thought. He was loyal, to be sure, clever as a wolf and as accurate with a gun as he was fast, but he was no friend. A rabid dog, more like, kept leashed by his need to please me, until now. Now, when there was a threat to his place. Now, when I looked over at the grim faced rancher beside me and couldn't help but smile.

"Can you make this?" I asked, jerking my head towards the gap, and Dan nodded, stiff, determination like hard steel in his eyes. We jumped together, I landed on my feet, Dan didn't. I hauled him up, and it felt right, running with Dan, felt good to have a man at my back who matched my every step. Equal and opposite, a pair, like a gift carved out by the hand of God. Unlike Charlie, unlike a single member of the gang, Dan would never need an order, wouldn't need to be controlled to keep him stable, keep him from turning traitor and shooting me in the back. Dan was predictable and he was good and he was kind and such men were in very, very short supply.

It felt endless, the run to the train station, kept me breathless, and I was almost happy. Until Charlie caught Dan in the arm right at the door, and the illusion was broken. This wasn't a game, not to the gang, not to anyone but me. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes for a second while the stationmaster told us the train was late.

"Goddamn trains. Can't depend on them," I said, and smiled as Dan chuckled, looking almost startled at himself. I would get on this train for him, I knew that. Maybe I'd even ride it all the way to Yuma, though that I doubted; train escapes were easier than prison breaks, and I'd only promised to get on, not get to the destination. But in either case, I'd ride back to Bisbee, all on my own, knock the gang off my trail. I'd stroll up to Dan's ranch and tap on the door, and Dan would answer, and I'd stay a while. And Dan, Dan would see the life that little spark inside him had always wanted, he'd get to itching for it and I would take him on an adventure, and we'd both say we were coming back and slowly, slowly Dan would forget that old life until there was nothing but the wide open sky of Mexico ahead.

It was a nice thought, at least, a fantasy. I knew well enough that Dan would rather die than admit he liked me. It was part of the appeal. More than likely I'd get on that train, ride a few miles and hop off again, loop around to meet the gang and pick up where we'd left off, and I'd never see Dan Evans again.

"I ain't stubborn, you know." He said it flatly, glancing between me and the window, gun held ready, eyes glowing with a wild, fierce light. Still, I didn't grace him with an answer, just raised an eyebrow. Didn't want him to think any part of me could believe him anything other than a stubborn son of a bitch. "It's my son Mark, the younger one, that's why I keep my family on the ranch. He started coughing, got diagnosed with Tuberculosis when he was two. Doctor told us to find a drier climate or he'd die." One more tragic thing in the life of Dan Evans, I guessed. It was half funny, that god would pile so much shit on one man. Cruel, too. And I was still amazed at the life still in him.

"Why're you telling me this?" It was a stupid question, and I already knew I wouldn't get the answer I wanted.

"I dunno. Just didn't want you to think I was stubborn, I guess." And he smiled, open for the first time for me to see. If I were more of a poetic man I might've felt my heart break. This would be the only time. And from there it was a blur.

The train pulled up, Dan's boy sent the cattle stampeding, I stepped on the train and Dan smiled again and I was congratulating him and Charlie didn't do as he was goddamn told. Dan fell in front of me, blood on the train, on the ground, on his clothes, on my hands. Charlie laughed, called him a tough son of a bitch, tossed me my gun. And the Hand of God dealt its vengeance, thoughtless, and Dan kept on bleeding behind me, Will holding back tears. But his hand was steady. I wished he'd shoot me but there was too much of Dan in him so I just climbed on the train. I remembered all at once why I'd never wanted to run with someone I liked.

* * *

  
I did a lot of thinking, on the train ride, mostly about whether or not I deserved to go on and hang. I'd killed a rare man, a good man, a noble man, no matter what he'd thought he was. And I'd killed my gang too, band of dogs that they were. I was alone again, not for the first time, but the prospect of rounding up another gang now felt long and empty. I'd let someone matter to me above myself and look where it got me. I bent my head, cupped it in my hands. The rocking train and the soft rattle of my chains hypnotized me into something like sleep. 

And then I remembered Dan's family, the promise shiny shoes had made him. If nothing else, I needed to make sure that promise was kept in Dan's absence. And so I called the guard over, and he got just close enough. 

My hands shot out, wrapped around his neck and pulled him up against the bars. I looked him in the eye and he thrashed and I could just barely hear him try to speak, beg for his life. Few men managed to say anything interesting, in times like these. 

He went limp like any man, and hand by hand I crept down, propping him against the cage door and slipping the heavy key off his belt. The men behind me, old men, probably drunks and petty thieves, kept still and silent, crowded into one corner. I opened the door, stepped out. Didn't check if he was dead or not. Didn't matter really. But he did have my gun, and that I took. 

I slid the train door open. We were moving fast, faster than any train I'd ever jumped from before. I held my breath, gripped the door for just a minute, waited for a patch of brush to land in just for something a little softer than the hard packed dirt. Christ, I hated Arizona. I jumped, tucked into myself and rolled. The brush scraped my face raw, tore my shirt, and my bones ached. 

But nothing was broken, and I was alive. I hauled myself up, watched the train roll on by, and started walking. My horse would've followed for a while at least, I knew that, so long as no one caught her. If I could find her, skirting around Contention would be easier. I whistled as I walked. If she heard it, she would come to me, and it kept my mind steady.

I walked for an hour before I found her, walking by the tracks about 15 miles out of Contention. She was picking at the scrub, and she walked up to me when she saw me. There was a soft happiness in her eyes but it didn't stop her from bumping her head hard against my shoulder. It'd been a long time since she'd been separated from me so often. 

"It's alright Blackberry. We got a long ride ahead of us, though, all the way back to Bisbee. Gonna be a while before we hit a town, too. I expect we'll be avoiding Contention a long time." Back to the old days, just me and a horse, dodging from town to town with my head down. I climbed on top her, pulled my hat down to shield my eyes from the setting sun, and started riding.

* * *


End file.
